


Three Times Yamapi Listened to his Friends...

by myxstorie



Category: Japanese Actor RPF, Japanese Drama, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myxstorie/pseuds/myxstorie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... and one time he did what he wanted.</p><p>Written for <a href="http://dreamsoftokyo.livejournal.com/profile">dreamsoftokyo</a> for the <a href="http://je-whiteday.livejournal.com/">je_whiteday</a> fic exchange, originally posted <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/je_whiteday/9134.html">here</a>. After lifetime after lifetime of failure, Yamapi does what <i>he</i> wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Yamapi Listened to his Friends...

\----  
  
1.  
With one final flourish of his sword, Yamashita watches the last of the warriors fall, their bodies sprawled haphazardly like wooden puppets with cut strings. The sharp smell of blood hangs in the air - some of it his own, some, his men's - and he wrinkles his nose in distaste, the childish gesture horribly out of place on such a usually stoic face.  
  
A nod of his head has his men following him, battered and bruised, some of their less lucky brothers draped over their shoulders to be buried properly when they return home.  
  
Yamashita - Yamapi, to her - had been in love with Maki for as long as he could remember. The moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd known she was the one, with her sweet smile and bubbly laugh, always there to take care of them all and never afraid to get her hands dirty. Being daughter to one of the most esteemed samurai in the land had forced her to learn early, or die at the hands of a vengeful opponent, and she had grown up quickly. Despite a maturity that belied her face, she was eternally optimistic, almost carefree if not for the way she could take off someone's legs from twenty feet. She was strong and independent, yet Yamapi couldn't help his need to take care of her, to shield her from the world and protect her from its horrors.  
  
"You should take her somewhere nice," Koyama offers, tightening the bandage around Yamapi's shoulder and tying it off. Yamapi tries his best not to wince at the pain - he had been the victim of Koyama's guilty tears once, and that was once too much.  
  
"As if she'd ever go for me," he mutters, trying to roll the stiffness out of his shoulder, "She's been around all this stuff for too long, she'd be stupid not to look for the quickest way out of here."  
  
Koyama raises an eyebrow but says nothing, patting Yamapi's good arm and sending him off with a request to send the next person in.  
  
As soon as he steps outside, she's there - if he didn't know better, he'd have said she was waiting for him - and her face twists in horror at the state of his face - the only damaged part of his body visible above his clothes.  
  
"I know I look a mess, but there's no need to look _quite_ so terrified."  
  
She laughs, and that sound alone is enough to brighten his day, "Wouldn't want to give the man a complex, would I?" She grins, "As if the great Yamashita, of all people, would ever need to worry about that."  
  
He sticks out his tongue, and the gesture makes her giggle, eyes shining up at him.  
  
"Careful, or I might suddenly decide I can never be seen by the naked eye again. I could lock myself away, _then_ what would you do?"  
  
She shrugs, "There's always Kamenashi."  
  
Yamapi squawks in horror, and that heart-warming laughter reaches him again, a grin slipping through his mask of indignation. He sees something in her eyes then, something interesting and new, a tiny spark that makes his heart catch in his chest. He sees Koyama's face again, that delicately raised eyebrow saying more than it had any right to.  
  
 _What's the worst that could happen..._  
  
"Maki-chan..."  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"I... could we... I don't know, um, maybe we could..."  
  
Maki grins wider than Yamapi's ever seen before, face lighting up like the sun, "I'd love to."  
  
-  
  
In hindsight, he should never have said anything. If he'd just continued on as always, loving her from afar, contenting himself with watching her be happy, if only he'd ignored Koyama, if only he'd kept his mouth shut like he had every other time she'd smiled at him like _that_ , if only, then this would never have happened.  
  
It had all started perfectly. They'd walked for hours until neither of them were entirely sure where they were, happy chatter filling the air. She carried her sandals in her hand, wanting the feel of the grass between her toes, and as the sun had begun to set, they'd settled under a tree, him leaning back against the trunk and her sitting cross-legged in front of him.  
  
He still wasn't sure even now what had made him do it. She was so beautiful, smiling face illuminated by the setting sun around them, her skin turning a soft, priceless gold. He could see the reflection of the sun glimmering in her eyes as she looked at him, and he had found himself powerless to resist any more, leaning forwards to brush their lips together.  
  
She had jumped, and he'd leapt away, face flushing and apologies flying out at a mile a minute while he berated himself for being so stupid, but then she was in his lap, arms around his neck. He'd thought he could hear her voice, thought she was telling him it was okay, but he couldn't be sure with the way his heart was pounding in his ears. Then she kissed him again, and he gave up thinking entirely, losing himself in the feel of her soft lips against his own.  
  
His hands went around her tiny waist, and she'd tilted her head, taking the initiative to deepen the kiss as her fingers wound themselves in his hair. He made a tiny sound against her mouth and she grinned into the kiss, lips curving up against his.  
  
It was all going so well, and Yamapi should have seen it coming.  
  
At her urging, he'd lowered her to the ground and covered her body with his own, one hand cradling her head, the other around her, holding her as close as he could manage. He poured everything he felt into her mouth, and from way she was clinging onto him and swallowing it all down, she seemed to be trying to do the same.  
  
He was so wrapped up in her, in finally being so close to the one he'd longed for for years, he was _too_ wrapped up, too distracted, and in the end, she had been his downfall.  
  
He barely even feels the blade at first, until she freezes beneath him. It's sharp, new, and it slices through his flesh like he's made of butter, piercing the skin and continuing on down until it finds something vital. Yamapi gasps soundlessly, unable to do anything else, eyes and mouth wide in pained shock. Blood rushes through his ears, so loud it deafens him, and all he can hear is the erratic thump of his heartbeat.  
  
He falls onto his side, unable to go any further because of the sword through his back, and he feels his grunt of pain in his throat more than he hears it. An unfamiliar face is smirking down at him, black hair wild around his face framing even blacker, wilder eyes. He's speaking, but Yamapi can't hear him, can only recognise the colours of the rogue clan he thought they had killed off before. Maki is at his side, he can feel her hands, and he tries to tell her to run, to get away, but he can't control his voice, mouth working to form the syllables but falling short.  
  
It doesn't matter, because the stranger seems to be relishing in her pain, and Yamapi sees him laugh as a tear slips down her cheek. He reaches down, and Yamapi thinks he hears her scream as the blade is yanked out, tearing more flesh on the way back and taking away the one thing stopping the flow of blood. It hurts now, it _really_ hurts, he can feel every single broken part of him inside and finds his breaths coming harsher, faster, his lung pierced and giving up the fight.  
  
She doesn't know what to do with her hands, touching everywhere she can reach, panicked, until she settles for stroking his hair and his face with shaking fingers. She's speaking to him, valiantly holding the tears at bay as best she can, although he sees them shining in her eyes.  
  
Yamapi wishes he could hear her, wishes his vision was clear enough to see more, every shape blurring more with each second that passes. He chokes on his breath, head spinning, black creeping in at the edges of his vision. She's holding him now, clutching onto his body, and he feels her lips on his, warm and soft and heavenly.  
  
Maki lifts her head just as Yamapi feels the first drop on his cheek, and he can see her outline rubbing frantically at her face, scrubbing at all the tears as darkness swallows his vision.  
  
He wants to smile for her - she's trying to be strong for him even now, even when they both know he's dying. He wishes they had more time, but she's brave, a better person than he could ever be, she has the strength to move on, and it's this knowledge that allows him to finally let go.  
  
In his heart, he knows that she'll be just fine without him.  
  
  
\----  
  
2.  
It's late, the moon high in the sky, stars glittering like billions of tiny lights against the darkness.  
  
Tomohisa likes the dark, thrives in it, the dark is when he is at his best. He throws the lifeless body in his arms down, wiping absently at his mouth and tastes the tang of blood on his tongue.  
  
"You're getting old, loser."  
  
Tomohisa blinks, "Excuse me?"  
  
Ryo pushes himself off of the wall with his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets, "She struggled way too much. You used to be so good at all this - I think you're losing your touch."  
  
"You're just jealous that mine was hotter than yours," he taunts, and when Ryo only glares at him, he knows he was right. That said, Ryo did have a point.  
  
In years past, Tomohisa had wooed his food, turned up at a club in his artfully torn jeans and designer boots, picked out the best looking girl - or boy, he wasn't fussy - in the crowd and danced with them, plied them with alcohol, seduced them. He would worm his way in, pry inside their mind for the perfect opening - they'd just lost a friend? He'd offer a shoulder to cry on, whisper pretty words into their ear until they were all his. Struggles with school? He'd be a freshly-graduated student who'd been through the same thing, offer them kind reassurances and soft touches until they melted. Whatever they wanted, he could be it, and by the time they made it outside, every one of them trusted Tomohisa with their life.  
  
They'd let him kiss them, take them to a hotel and have them against cool, silk sheets while he murmured whatever they wanted to hear, voice soft and sweet with words of care and devotion, or harsh, dark filth, promised with a smirk. They'd cling onto him until he sank his teeth in, some of them even pushing up for more until they realised what was going on, by which time it was already too late.  
  
Now, he just picked up the sluttiest looking one there and took them outside. Sometimes, he'd take them up against the wall first, but more often than not he wouldn't even bother, just tearing into them and drinking them dry, muffling their screams with his fingers down their throat.  
  
Ryo preferred the taste of fear in his victims, loved the bitterness of it, but Tomohisa had never agreed. He insisted that lust-infused blood was so much sweeter than anything else, and he can't remember when he had started settling for anything less.  
  
-  
  
The next night, he finds his target almost immediately. Ryo's urging has convinced him to try his old techniques on tonight's meal - although really, he hadn't taken much convincing. Willing blood was so much better than the rest.  
  
She stands out from the crowd, her smile bright enough to make her shine amongst a sea of dull bodies, and he knows then and there that he has to have her. She'll be the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, he just knows it.  
  
Her name is Maki, and she's more of a challenge than he'd expected. He spends the night using his best tricks on her, but by the time the night is over she's still keeping him at a distance. She doesn't give him her number, but she does leave with a promise to be back the next night.  
  
He wants her badly enough that he just lets her walk away, then takes a nameless, faceless girl to feed off of to keep him going until he meets her again.  
  
It takes him three more meetings before she really opens up to him, tells him all those things he'd found whilst snooping through her mind. She trusts him now, he can feel it, and he thinks tomorrow will be the night.  
  
Ryo teases him mercilessly about it, all sorts of insults flying his way. Whipped, desperate and pathetic are just a few that Tomohisa bothers to listen to before tuning his friend out - over the years, he's developed quite a talent for it. It's that, or strangle Ryo in his sleep, and Tomohisa doesn't fancy the thought of spending eternity alone, even if his companion is an arrogant, irritating asshole.  
  
"You want her~" Ryo singsongs in his ear, and Tomohisa swats at him like he would a fly or a gnat.  
  
"Oh well done, genius."  
  
Ryo looks affronted, but continues anyway, "No, you _really_ want her. Not just for dinner. You want to _keep her_."  
  
Tomohisa's face is carefully blank, as ever. "Don't be ridiculous."  
  
"You do! I can feel it, when you think about her you get all _brooding_. As if you don't do enough of that as it is."  
  
"Shut up, Ryo-chan."  
  
"You seriously need to get laid."  
  
"Fuck you, moron."  
  
"Pussy."  
  
"Midget."  
  
Ryo growls, and Tomohisa's eyes smirk down at him, using his full height to his advantage. Ryo folds his arms stubbornly and grins slowly, and had he been human, that grin would have chilled Tomohisa to the bone.  
  
"You know I'm right." He makes a show of checking his watch, "Oh! Look at the time! You're going to be la~te."  
  
Tomohisa only realises when he arrives at the club that the speed he had shot out of there with would only fuel Ryo's taunting.  
  
-  
  
He was right. Tonight was the night.  
  
It's only ten o'clock, and she's leaving with him already. Her hand settles in the crook of his elbow, and he covers it with one of his own, carefully weaving them through the crowds of people until crisp night air hits them.  
  
He thinks about taking her to a love hotel, knows there are plenty of them around here that rent by the hour, but somehow that doesn't feel right. He doesn't want to have her in some cheap, foreign bed that countless people before them have used for their own pleasure. Instead, he flags down a taxi and ushers her inside, and after a short, quiet drive, they end up at the apartment he's shared with Ryo ever since they came here all those years ago.  
  
They'd boarded the windows up as soon as they moved in, but thick curtains covered the eyesores, which were left drawn at all times. Ryo would be out hunting his own food, and she wouldn't be there long enough to explore the fridge, so there was really no harm in bringing her there.  
  
Tomohisa tries not to think about never having brought a meal home with him before.  
  
He doesn't bother offering her a drink - mainly because he has nothing to give - but she doesn't complain, letting him lead her down the hall to his bedroom. She admires the decor, antique mahogany and thick, soft fabrics from his youth furnishing the room, and sits down on the edge of his bed, eyes smiling up at him. She knows what he wants, and she's only too happy to give it to him, even wants it as badly as he does.  
  
He kisses her, slow and sweet, and she winds her arms around his neck, pulling him down with her as she falls onto her back. If her blood tastes as sweet as her mouth, then this whole game will have been worth it. She'd be the richest meal he'd ever had, and he wonders if he can stomach something so good all at once.  
  
Their clothes end up on the floor, her eager hands making quick work of his while he takes his time with hers. She's pale, almost as pale as he is, and he can _see_ the blood rushing beneath her skin, watches her pulse points jumping rhythmically. He licks his lips and she smiles, embarrassed about what she thinks he's hinting at.  
  
For the first time in almost a hundred years, Tomohisa finds himself between a woman's legs, tongue flicking and swiping as she moans above him, lips pressed together to muffle her noises. He wants to hear her, so he doubles his efforts, introducing his fingers to the mix until she cries out and tenses, shaking beneath him. He laps up all he can, his own sounds of enjoyment tingling through her and making her buck up against him. Too soon, she pulls him away, unable to take any more, and he's sliding home, her legs wrapping around his waist while her body arches up towards him.  
  
He hasn't fed in days - the last girl at the bar that first night had left a nasty taste in his mouth - and he can feel his stomach twisting, hunger beginning to win out over arousal. She tosses her head back as he speeds up, angling himself carefully and dropping a hand between her legs to help her along. He can see that tiny point in her neck throbbing with every pump of her heart, can hear it in his head, drowning out her cries. He wets suddenly dry lips and leans in closer, the rest of her body blurring as he focuses in on that one spot, mouth beginning to water at the prospect.  
  
He dips his head and drags the flat of his tongue over it, feeling her tighten around him. He rolls his hips and she gasps, nails digging into his biceps, and suddenly, he is angry. Angry at his father for abandoning them, angry at Takki for making him this way, angry at Ryo for being _himself_ , but most of all, he's angry at her. Angry at her for changing him, for sneaking inside without him ever noticing it, angry at her for leaving little pieces of herself inside him until he doesn't feel complete without her, angry at her for being so goddamn beautiful underneath him and making him want her so desperately.  
  
She's dangerous, she makes him feel things, things he shouldn't, things he thought had died with his body all those years ago. She's come into his life and turned him inside out, taken everything he's ever believed in and replaced it with a new, different Tomohisa. It scares him, the way she makes his chest tight and his throat dry, and Tomohisa isn't scared of anything, especially not some little mortal woman. She can only bring trouble, can only get in the way and cause problems for them, and it's with an inhuman determination that he sinks his teeth into her throat.  
  
She cries out, the sound echoing off the walls, and grips him impossibly tighter, body convulsing as she reaches heaven a second time. Some far part of his mind that Tomohisa can't quite reach dimly thinks that she's the first girl he's ever had who's gotten off on his bite - she'd be perfect for him. Her hold starts to falter, fingers flexing sporadically until she's struggling underneath him, tiny whimpers all she can manage, and something screams at him to stop. It's too late now though, the demon has won out and he can't, she tastes too delicious for him to pull his mouth away. He drinks and drinks until she falls still beneath him, finally thrusting to completion as he drains the last of the life from her limp body.  
  
As he comes back to himself, Tomohisa can only stare in horror at what he's done.  
  
  
\----  
  
3.  
She's an angel.  
  
That's the only word for her, Yamashita is sure of it - he certainly thinks on it often enough.  
  
He watches her almost as much as he thinks of her, drinking in every aspect of her appearance from her long, flowing black hair to her small waist, wide obi always tied tightly around it, from her delicate hands to her small toes, peeking out from her geta or covered by crisp white socks.  
  
There is just one thing he wishes for.  
  
All he wants is to hear her voice.  
  
Yamashita has worked at the palace for nearly a week now, and although he's seen Horikita Maki, daughter of the Emperor, around the palace and gardens plenty of times, he's never once heard her speak.  
  
It intrigues him, and at night, he lays awake, wondering. Would she sound as pretty as she looked? Would her voice be befitting of a person with such an angelic appearance? Soft and gentle, melodic, the kind of voice that would sing you a lullaby or a prayer late at night. Or maybe she didn't speak because she had a terrible voice, deep or raspy, something even she herself couldn't bring herself to hear. Yamashita starts to worry now, crossing his fingers against the latter. Maybe she didn't speak because she couldn't. Maybe she was _mute._  
  
He hopes not, and before he falls asleep, he prays with all his might that it isn't true.  
  
-  
  
"Yamashita!"  
  
He jumps, snapping to attention. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, he'd only leaned against the wall for a moment's breath, but he had been up so late the previous night worrying over the state of the Horikita mistress's vocal cords that the boundary between wakefulness and sleep was wavering.  
  
"Take this to the Ojousan." Takizawa-'just call me Takki'-senpai hands him a tray of breakfast, "She requested her meal out in the gardens today."  
  
Yamashita nods dutifully and heads out with the food, already worried that he'll drop it all over himself - or worse, over _her_ \- and get himself fired.  
  
He makes it outside without walking into anything or tripping over his own feet, but the moment he lays eyes on her, he stumbles.  
  
Cursing under his breath, he catches himself before the soup spills over and keeps his head down so he can make it to her side without any more mishaps.  
  
He places the tray beside her with a soft, "Your food, my lady," and straightens to leave, but stops when he hears a soft, "Thank you."  
  
He almost whirls around, such is his shock, but stops just in time, sure that that wouldn't be the polite thing to do. Her voice, it's everything he'd hoped it would be and more, the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. It didn't matter that he'd never even travelled out of the village before coming here, he just knew there could be no lovelier sound in all the world.  
  
Yamashita moves to leave again, nodding his assent, but she stops him.  
  
"You're new, aren't you?"  
  
He nods again, then hurries to answer, remembering how his father had beaten him once for not replying in a timely manner. It's one of the only memories he has of him, and he doesn't miss the old man one bit. The first time, nothing comes out, and he has to clear his throat and wet his lips before he can speak.  
  
"Y-yes, I just started. It's a pleasure working for you, Horikita-sama."  
  
She laughs softly, and, impossibly, it's even more beautiful than her regular voice.  
  
"Just Maki is fine, please. That makes me sound like my father."  
  
"I'm sorry," He bows deeply, "I truly d-didn't mean to offend you, please forgive me."  
  
She laughs again, "You're strange, aren't you?"  
  
He flushes, although whether it's from her words or her dazzling smile, he's not sure.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Yamashita, my lady. Yamashita Tomohisa."  
  
-  
  
Over the next few months, on most days Maki seeks Yamashita out, requesting his assistance. The tasks, however, are never hard work, and she keeps him around with her long after he's done, chattering to him and telling him all her hopes and dreams. She wants to travel, she says, maybe even go as far as Korea or even China. At first, Yamashita can't imagine ever going somewhere so far away - coming to the palace had been more than enough travelling for him for one lifetime - but the more she talks of it, of the different languages and scenery and customs, the more he feels her enthusiasm infusing him, more and more day after day until all he wants is to take her to all of those far away places she speaks of and never look back.  
  
Slowly, it gets easier to talk to her. One evening, she's sitting on a wall in the garden, swinging her legs idly, and giggles when he can't look her in the eye.  
  
"Did you know, you always blush when you talk to me. Are you really that shy? Your cheeks get all pink."  
  
This only makes him flush darker, and she winks.  
  
"You're too cute, Yamapi~"  
  
Yamapi. He could get used to that.  
  
-  
  
Their first kiss was totally by accident.  
  
She's picking her way through the trees near the walls around the palace, and trips. Yamashita lunges for her, but catches his arm on a branch, and the two of them go tumbling to the floor, his mouth landing on her cheek.  
  
For a moment, neither of them move a muscle. Her breath is warm on his face, her eyes wide. He wonders why she isn't pushing him off, and knows he should really get up now, until she blinks, and his eyes drift down to her lips.  
  
They are parted, glistening, and they look so soft, so luscious that Yamashita can't stop himself tasting them.  
  
Just like when he discovered Maki was as beautiful as her name suggested, that she sounded as angelic as she looked, now Yamashita discovers that she tastes even better. Her mouth moulds to his like she's made for him, and her passion as she kisses him makes him feel like she's been waiting for this as long as he has.  
  
He's a perfect gentleman, keeping his hands to himself, just using his fingers to curl around her cheek, and he makes sure to keep his hips raised up far from hers, just in case.  
  
They lay there and kiss until the sun goes down, and then they kiss some more, for so long that the other servants are sent out to look for them.  
  
Maki tries her best to make excuses, promising that it was her fault for keeping one of the servants out so late, but Yamashita is still scolded terribly for not bringing her back earlier. He bows low, forehead pressed against the tatami, and vows never to be so irresponsible again.  
  
He's let off with a warning, but he's already fallen for her, hard and fast, and every time he lays eyes on her, he loves her a little bit more. He is powerless against her. She calls for him, and he goes, never tiring of her chatter, her laughter, her mouth against his. He needs her like he needs air to breathe, but he wouldn't have it any other way.  
  
They are careful, always on the lookout, hidden deep within the gardens behind the trees. They sneak around, and Yamashita feels awful for abusing the Emperor's trust like this but he can't stop, can't resist, and every single time, he goes to her. They creep away and ensconce themselves far from the prying eyes of the other palace inhabitants, losing themselves in each other for hours on end - sure, now, to return before dark to avoid arousing any suspicion.  
  
They are careful, so careful, but that doesn't stop one of the gardeners seeing them and reporting them to his supervisor, who in turn goes to the Emperor himself. The next morning Yamashita is called in to see the Emperor himself. The Emperor is enraged, shouting and gesticulating wildly. He's furious with Yamashita, so angry that someone he'd brought into his home could betray him so. He's disappointed too, he says, disappointed in Yamashita but also disappointed in _himself_ for hiring someone who would take advantage of his daughter like that. Three strikes. One more chance, or Yamashita faces the consequences.  
  
Yamashita's heard of the kind of 'consequences' the Emperor favours, has seen the guillotine and the carts at night taking away the bodies of those who had abused the Emperor's trust one time too many.  
  
A week, he makes it a week. He ignores her requests for him, finds menial and meaningless tasks to occupy himself with when he can't stop thinking about her. He works harder than ever, scrubbing and waxing and polishing until everything gleams, studiously avoiding her part of the palace, the parts of the gardens she frequents, and rushing off whenever he thinks he hears her soft footsteps approaching.  
  
After the first week, she stops calling for him, and he would breath a sigh of relief if he isn't so disappointed that she's given up so easily. He thought they had something special, that he was more to her than that. He misses her, so much that it physically hurts, the need to see her again eating him up inside, and the more he tries to ignore it, the worse it gets.  
  
He's got his head stuck in the oven when she corners him, and finally seeing her face to face again, he can't do it any more. He can't hide from these feelings, he can't forget the feel of her fingers entwined with his, her lips pressed to his cheek, her mouth warm against his own.  
  
Their first time is everything he'd imagined it would be and then some. She's unbelievably beautiful underneath her clothes, all soft skin and smooth curves, responsive and pliant beneath his fingertips. He's nervous, pulse racing a mile a minute, but he's not sure if that's because of his nerves or the excitement of finally being able to really _be_ with her. He does his best to be gentle, but it's hard when she's so warm around him and all he wants to do is chase perfection with her. He's unable to hold back long enough, but he makes it up to her afterwards with his fingers, swallowing down her cries as she clutches at his shoulders and shudders.  
  
He cradles her against his chest, her breath ghosting across his skin, and basks in the unspoken feelings between them before he has to tell her they can't be together any more. Unfortunately, they must not have been as quiet as he'd thought, and he never gets a chance to explain what went on the week before with her father, because at that moment he bursts in, face like thunder. There's pure, undiluted rage in his eyes, gaze black and murderous, and he drags Yamashita out of there, oblivious to his daughter's pleading as she runs down the corridor behind them, tripping over the ends of the sheet wrapped around her body. Yamashita's arm feels like it's going to be yanked out of the socket with the force the Emperor is pulling him with, and he stutters out his apologies as he stumbles, trying and failing to get his footing.  
  
He's panicking too much to care about his nudity, scared of what's going to happen to him, worried about Maki, devastated that he was weak enough to let this happen. Down and down they go, Yamashita's legs already beginning to bruise as he's tugged down flight after flight of stairs and tossed into one of the empty cells.  
  
Maki brings him his clothes and he kisses her fingers through the bars, wishing he could kiss her tears away and hold her in his arms. She sits with him for hours in the cold talking, and he tries to make her forget the inevitable with his impressions of the other servants. She laughs, but it's empty, bitter, and that hurts even more than the sadness in her eyes.  
  
The dawn comes all too soon, and she's ordered back up to her room when the guards come to take him away. She looks at him one final time, and he can see it, what she wants to say, opens his mouth to tell her he feels the same, but then the guard is prompting her, and with a last sad glance, she turns and leaves.  
  
The walk to the podium is possibly the longest trip Yamashita has ever had to make. His feet feel heavy, every step using up more and more of his energy. The crowd jeer and taunt as he climbs the steps and is forced down onto his knees. Their voices ring in his ears, his neck stings from the splinters in the wood, his wrists ache where they're tied behind him, but all he can think of is her, his little piece of heaven, and the last thing he does before the executioner cuts the rope is promise himself that one day, in another life, she will be is.  
  
  
\----  
  
4.  
Yamapi knocks the back of Jin's head as he arrives home, and Jin grunts, refusing to tear his eyes away from his game.  
  
"Nice to see you too, asshole."  
  
His friend sighs exaggeratedly and pauses his game, placing the controller on the floor with a flourish before batting his eyelids and putting on his best female voice (which was absolutely awful, but Yamapi would never tell Jin that, just like Jin would never tell Yamapi he thought that hairstyle was really, really gay).  
  
"Welcome home dear, and how was your day?"  
  
Yamapi laughs, "Shut up, idiot. I got a new drama."  
  
Jin scoffs and picks up the controller again, resuming his game and leaning to the left with the little car as it purred around the track, "Your dramas suck. What's it about this time?"  
  
Yamapi ignores him, because both of them know Jin's just trying to make himself better, "I'm working with Maki-chan again."  
  
Jin 'ooh~'s childishly, and Yamapi tries not to smile while he tells him to stop it.  
  
"I think I might ask her out this time."  
  
Jin's grin fades, and he shoots his friend a nervous look, pausing his game again, "Pi, I... I'm not sure she'd go for that. You know what she's like about keeping work and friends apart. I've heard she's a real stickler for it. I know you've liked her for like, ever, but... I have a bad feeling about it, that's all. Like it can't end well."  
  
Yamapi looks awkwardly determined, "I'll never know unless I try."  
  
"I just don't want you to get hurt," Jin smiles sadly.  
  
-  
  
To Jin's surprise and Yamapi's delight, Maki agrees. Soon their date turns into two, three, five, ten, until they've been seeing each other exclusively for over a year.  
  
It never gets old or boring, for Yamapi, at least - and if the way she full on _sparkles_ every time she sees him is any indication, Maki feels the same.  
  
They lie, limbs tangled beneath Yamapi's sheets, comfortable in their nudity together. He's running his fingers up and down her arm idly, her hand tracing meaningless artwork into his skin. Her head rests above his heart, listening to the soft _tha-dump tha-dump_ beneath his breast.  
  
"Ne, Maki-chan?" He murmurs, and she smiles at the way his chest rumbles under her cheek.  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"Do you... Ever feel like we've done this before?"  
  
She turns her head, frowns up at him, "Of course we have, I always stay over when you have a day off."  
  
"That's not what I mean, it just... Never mind."  
  
She can hear the uncertainty in his voice, but they leave it at that, content to sprawl around the apartment while Jin's away, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon together.  
  
-  
  
He slides the ring onto her finger, the simple silver band sitting next to the glittering diamond already there. Yamapi grins down at her and holds his hand out for her to do the same for him, the voice of the greying old man in his robes before them just an annoying background noise as he draws her into his arms and kisses her.  
  
They are both older now, creases forming in the skin around her eyes, his hair beginning to grey in places, but they're as happy as they've ever been, and to each other, they're as perfect as the day they met.  
  
When Yamapi moves to pull back, Maki leans up to whisper in his ear.  
  
"Does it feel like we've done this before?"  
  
Yamapi smiles, eyes alight with happiness, and kisses her again, shaking his head.  
  
 _Never._


End file.
